


Falling Out Of Love

by Kc749



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kc749/pseuds/Kc749
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friend fic between Buffy and Tara, set post-"Family"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Out Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them...

 

Tara sat on the steps of Kresge hall. Willow was upstairs, asleep in her bed. The night had been… busy. Tara was now twenty years old. They’d celebrated with their friends earlier at the Bronze, and then later, after returning here, in a much more private way. It had been amazing. But until now, Tara hadn’t had time to just sit and think.

Mostly what she needed to do was pin down what she was feeling. Aside from the fact that emotion would colour any spell-casting she did, she needed it for her own peace of mind.

First, she was happy. More than that; ecstatic, elated, there were so many words for the good feelings running through her. She kept reliving the moment in the Magic Shop earlier when every one of the Scoobies (even Spike, in his own way) had defended her right to stay here, to live her life with no excuses, no restrictions. She’d never had anyone defend her that way. It had been wonderful.

The second thing she was feeling was guilt. If she’d gotten to the Magic Shop just a couple of minutes later, or not gone at all, one of her friends, ( _even Willow_ , her mind whispered, playing on her worst fears) one of them might have died. And it was her fault. She hadn’t meant for the casting to hide all demons from the Scoobies’ sight, but it had, and she was responsible. It was a stark reminder of how much she still had to learn when it came to Wicca. Though she’d been studying it most of her life, she still needed to be careful. She made a silent vow to herself to study harder, put more of an effort into learning about the consequences of magic after this.

It took her almost half an hour of sitting on the cool concrete steps to finally pin down the last emotion that had dragged her from Willow’s warm and sleepy embrace. When she finally did, she was left with even more questions.

She was sad.

 _But what do I have to be sad about_? Tara questioned herself with bewilderment. _I have a place to live, great friends, my soul mate sleeping upstairs in my bed. I can practice Wicca all I want now, and there’s nobody to glare at me, or lecture me about evilness and fire and brimstone. I’m free!_

The sadness did not abate with this train of thought. Tara simply couldn’t understand it. She had been there almost an hour when a familiar form wandered up and perched beside her, stylish yet sensible boots on and a stake just visible inside her jacket.

“So, you know what isn’t so great about being the Chosen One?” Buffy asked conversationally. “Inhaling vampire dust. Disgusting. I mean, the guys are dead, then they turn to dust, then I end up breathing it in. I’ll end up with some new form of emphysema named after me, just you watch.”

Tara smiled slightly. “The hazards of slaying. You should write a book.”

Buffy brightened at the idea. “Hey, I could put in helpful hints. Like, don’t wear your favourite shirt while hunting a slime demon. Or, keep a change of clothes tied to the tree outside your house so no one knows you were out. It could be very organised and colourful.”

Tara was happy to see the other girl smiling. With the possibility of her mom being sick, it had become a rare phenomenon these days.

“So I know what I’m doing wandering around in the wee hours of the morning,” said Buffy, “But what’s your excuse? Shouldn’t you be upstairs snuggling my best friend and doing things that, no offence, I want no details about?” She eyed Tara inquisitively.

“I was,” Tara replied, “B… but I couldn’t settle. All I was doing was causing Miss Kitty Fantastico to get riled up. We’re trying to get her to sleep at night and play during the day. She kept giving me this look, like she thought I should get scolded for being up since she wasn’t allowed.”

“Oh.” Buffy thought for a second. “Any idea why you can’t sleep? I’ll listen, if you think it’ll help.”

Tara shrugged slightly uncomfortably. “That’s what I was trying to figure out when you came along. I…” her voice dropped for a second, then she decided what the hell. “I’m sad. But I don’t know why. I had one of the best days of my life. What right do I have to be sad?”

Buffy eyed her in silence for a second, then turned her gaze to the campus, eyes always moving. _Ever the slayer, even at rest_ , Tara thought. Finally Buffy said “Giles and I talked today. I can’t say about exactly what… anyway, at one point he suggested I call my dad about something.” Buffy’s keen senses didn’t miss the slight shift that was all she needed to tell her that the word ‘dad’ hit hard. And proved her hypothesis.

“So I had to tell him how my father is off somewhere, living it up with some other woman while my mom deals with being sick and everyday life and me being a slayer and raising Dawn… It hurts. I mean, he basically just abandoned us. Me. And it’s like, jeez, what did I do? And when he left, I thought, _fine, let him leave, I can just stop caring about him too_.” Buffy sighed. “But I can’t. I hate him for leaving, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love him. He was my dad.” She glanced over and was shocked to see silent tears on Tara’s face. “Oh god, I’m sorry Tara. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She pulled the other girl into her arms.

Tara tried to stop the tears, but it was impossible. The combination of Buffy’s words and being held seemed to draw them out. She could only hope that she didn’t appear hopelessly weak to the girl holding her.

Buffy didn’t say anything for a while, simply made soothing noises and let Tara cry. Finally the other girl pulled away, wiping her face on a sleeve and hiding behind her hair. “S… Sor…” she managed to say, before slender fingers, calloused from holding a stake, were pressed against her lips.

“You’d better not be about to apologise,” Buffy said seriously. “Everyone has a right to cry. From the little I saw of your family, you probably have more reasons than most.” She lowered her hand and tilted Tara’s chin up and smiled at her.

Tara gave a tremulous smile back. “It wasn’t a… all bad you know. Sometimes he was the best dad in the world. But he’s… set. He can only believe one thing. He can’t fathom that a demon could be anything but evil. I think he thought he was saving my soul.”

Buffy nodded. “And just because he hurt you, that doesn’t mean you won’t miss him.”

Tara nodded. “You know, I bet you’d make a good counselor. You could talk to people about what’s bothering them, help them get past it.”

Buffy snorted. “Yeah right. What do I know about life? If they’re looking for advice on proper slaying techniques, or how to walk across a forest floor without making noise, then I could help. But real life? Nah.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Tara tilted her head and Buffy got the sense she wasn’t so much as looking _at_ her as sort of… _into_ her. “And if I have the right to cry, you have the right to be more than the Slayer. You have the right to dream too, you know.”

Buffy smiled. “I’m really glad you stayed Tara.”

Tara nodded. “Me too.” She glanced up towards the darkened windows of the dorm. “Guess I should get back. I don’t want Willow to wake up and worry about me.”

Buffy nodded. “I’m gonna finish my patrol. I’ll see ya later, ok?” She watched while Tara pulled out her keys and opened the door. “And Tara?”

“Yes?”

“No more blindness spells, ‘k?”

Tara blushed furiously. “Okay.”

Buffy grinned. “Night.”

As she sprinted into the woods near the dorm, Tara could just make out her voice saying “Now really, I get that the whole evil undead thing wasn’t your fault. But that jacket? And those shoes? _That’s_ just wrong.”

*poof*


End file.
